


My lips are (not) sealed

by BrilliantlyHorrid



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Accidental Love Confessions, F/M, I just love Daisy SO MUCH, Overwhelmed Phil, Pain Killers, Poor groggy Daisy, fandom tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 19:42:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9622721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrilliantlyHorrid/pseuds/BrilliantlyHorrid
Summary: Coulson sighed. “Daisy, I promise you, I’m not going to judge you for anything you say right now. I’ve been there, we all have.” Still unconvinced, Daisy stared at him. It was kind of unnerving actually. Was she always this intense?“You don’t have to talk, but if you do it’s not the end of the world.”Daisy shook her head.It would be the end of the world, apparently.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zauberer_sirin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/gifts).



> Doing another version of this trope because I FEEL LIKE IT and also Becketted challenged me basically to a fic duel and jealousy and competition motivate me so here we are.

Coulson watched the clock in the common room dutifully, waiting for the second to tick down.

_Five...four...three...two…_

“I should head over now,” he announced, standing up from the couch. Fitz looked at him oddly, while Simmons smiled.

“That’s an excellent idea,” she said, and Phil shoved his hands in his pockets.

“It’ll take a minute to get there, and I don’t want to keep Mack too long in case he needs to--”

“Of course.”

Halting his incredibly unnecessary explanation/excuse, he nodded and headed out the door. It was his watch, or would be in a little under three minutes, and he was anxious to say the least. Daisy had been out of surgery and stable for a few hours by now--he doubted Simmons would be watching TV otherwise--but she’d given them all a scare. Phil had seen his fair share of gunshot wounds, on Daisy no less, and they were never not horrible.

Knocking quietly on the door to the recovery room, he let himself in.

“Just keep what I said in mind,” Mack said quietly, and Daisy nodded, oddly solemn. That disappeared for a moment when Mack awkwardly leaned down and kissed the top of her head, which caused a wide, goofy grin to spread across her face.

Clearing his throat, Mack stepped back and nodded at Coulson. Phil wasn’t going to make fun, he knew how worried Mack had been about his partner. A little PDA was completely acceptable.

“How is everything?” Phil asked, waving at Daisy so as to not seem like he was talking about her like she wasn’t there. From the look in her eyes she wasn’t totally _there_ , but she was in the room and listening nonetheless.

“Ah, good,” Mack said, hands on his hips. He was having a hard time looking Coulson in the eye, which was curious. Even he wasn’t usually _this_ guarded with his emotions. “She’s on some pretty serious painkillers, so you know the drill.”

He did. Having been in Daisy’s situation many times, and bearing witness to others, Coulson was definitely familiar. “Got it.”

“I’ll see you later, Tremors,” Mack said, waving at Daisy and leaving the room.

Coulson walked closer, taking Mack’s vacated seat next to her bed. “How are you feeling?” He asked, hoping he didn’t sound as worried as he felt. Daisy hated it when people worried, but he honestly couldn’t help it.

Daisy just stared.

Coulson frowned, leaning forward on his elbows. “Are you feeling okay?”

Daisy hesitated for a moment, but nodded briskly. Worried, Coulson stood up and grabbed her chart. She wasn't hit in the neck or chest, so she shouldn’t be having any trouble speaking. He started to feel a bit clammy. Had something else happened? Did they miss something?

“Stop worrying.”

A very exasperated looking Daisy was staring at him now, and Phil started to breathe normally again.

“You can talk,” he said, replacing the chart and sitting back down. Daisy nodded. “But...you don’t want to talk.”

She nodded again, lips pressed tightly together. Coulson considered her thoughtfully.

“Because of the painkillers.”

Another nod. Coulson sighed. “Daisy, I promise you, I’m not going to judge you for anything you say right now. I’ve been there, we all have.” Still unconvinced, Daisy stared at him. It was kind of unnerving actually. Was she always this intense? “You don’t have to talk, but if you do it’s not the end of the world.”

Daisy shook her head.

It _would_ be the end of the world, apparently. Leaning back in his chair, Phil looked up at the ceiling. He wouldn’t force her to talk if she didn’t want to, and he didn’t want to deliberately embarrass her, but she was that worried about what she would say in front of him? How bad could it be? She could never look any worse than he had.

That gave him an idea.

“One time I was so out of it I bet my SO I could still do a cartwheel with a broken wrist,” Phil said, looking around the room casually. “She didn’t take the bet but I tried anyway. It didn’t work out great.” He looked over at Daisy, who seemed wary.

“One time I gave an emotional defense of Amy Winehouse to a talk radio host who was being cruel.” He crossed one leg over the other. “I didn’t call in or anything, just talked back at the radio while being driven back to the base.”

That got a tiny quirk of the lips, but they remained firmly closed.

“One time I told Nick Fury I could read his palm,” he said, and actually blushed a little bit. That one was still embarrassing.

“You read palms?”

“I do not.”

Daisy’s eyes widened, then she covered her mouth, staring at him accusingly. Coulson held up his hands. Groaning, Daisy leaned back further, her eyes lost to him as the pillows obscured his view.

“Mack said to not worry,” she said. Her words ran together, not quite slurring but blending a bit at the edges.

“You shouldn’t,” Coulson agreed. Smiling slightly, he tapped his fingers on the edge of her mattress. “I thought this was supposed to be called ‘laughing gas,’” he joked. Daisy seemed oddly melancholy, from the little he’d gotten out of her so far.

“He said you wouldn’t hate me.”

Phil froze.

“What?”

How could Daisy ever think he’d _hate_ her? Her, of all people.

“Daisy, I could never hate you,” Coulson said, leaning over until he could see her face. “There is nothing you could say that would make me feel that way.”

Daisy stared up at the ceiling and shook her head. “That’s not true.”

She sounded so confident in that, it kind of scared him. He was beginning to wonder if this feeling wasn’t a side effect, just the voicing of it. For a moment, Phil wondered if he should get Mack back in here, he didn’t seem to be having the best effect on her.

“Oh no, I made you sad,” Daisy said, covering her eyes. “Please don’t be sad. That’s worse.”

Gently Coulson moved her hands from her face, making sure she was looking him in the eye. “I’m not sad,” he said, mustering up a little smile to try to prove it. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. What do you need me to do?”

Daisy bit her lip, looking away. She was distressed, and if she needed him to leave in order to feel better, he would--

“Can you make me a sandwich?” 

* * *

 

He couldn’t make her a sandwich. Well, he could but he wasn’t supposed to, so he stuck to the Simmons approved menu of tomato soup.

(Canned, unfortunately, but he heated it up on the stove instead of the microwave so he liked to think that helped.) After relieving Simmons of her interim Daisy-watching duties while he made the soup, Phil helped Daisy sit up enough to eat properly. Whatever had been upsetting Daisy earlier seemed to have faded away while he was gone, or the soup was just that good.

Not wanting to jinx it by saying anything, Phil just flipped through a magazine while she ate. Maybe it was just a side effect of the medication, making her think irrational, frankly stupid things. As if he could ever hate Daisy. Coulson had met aliens and returned from the dead but there were some things too crazy for even him to believe.

“Want some?” Daisy asked, holding her bowl out to him. Coulson shook his head, and Daisy’s eyes narrowed. “When’s the last time you ate?”

“While I made the soup,” he lied. He didn’t have much of an appetite right then. Daisy seemed suspicious, but tried to hand him the bowl again.

“I’m done,” she said, and Coulson took the bowl away and placed it on the floor.

“Done with this too?” He asked, gesturing to the tray in front of her. Daisy was starting to sink back into her pillows, so he removed the tray so she could lie down fully. “Do you need help?” She was doing this kind of odd wiggling motion, probably trying to scoot down a bit without agitating her injuries. Giving up, she nodded, so Coulson reached under her and very carefully helped her lie down flat.

Daisy sighed, looking up at him. She seemed almost defeated. “I’m so in love with you.”

That was...not what he was expecting.

“What?”

Daisy rolled her eyes, the motion slightly exaggerated either for dramatic effect or as a result of the medication. “You and your...soup and your suits and your--” she pointed to her forehead, kind of missing and starting at her hairline before dragging her finger down to the right spot.

Phil frowned.

“Yes, that, there,” Daisy said, pointing at him this time. “That face, all your faces.” Lolling her head to the opposite side, she looked away from him. Coulson realized he should probably get her to turn back this way, make sure she was okay, but the movement allowed him a moment to...process.

Maybe she was telling that to everyone who saw her in this state. Maybe that’s why Mack had looked at him so oddly before he left. _Or she also told Mack she’s in love with me._

“Daisy, that’s the medication talking,” he said, soothingly. Or so he thought. Daisy looked at him again, hardly looking soothed.

“Don’t do that, don’t patron--talk down to me.”

 _‘Don’t patronize me,’_ was what she was going to say, which opened up a whole other can of worms.

“I told Mack this would happen,” she lamented, sticking her fingers through her hair. “I told him you would freak out, like _you are_ , because I ruined everything and now you have to deal with knowing I feel like _that_ and you have to reject me and it’s _fine_ but you’re going to be all upset about it forever because you’re _nice_ and you don’t want to hurt me.”

Coulson gaped a little bit, trying to make sure he was following along.

“How long--”

“Like, forever, probably,” Daisy answered. “You took me on a ride in a flying car, dude.”

She wasn’t wrong.

“And you never said anything.”

Daisy seemed to weigh the question, tilting her head to one side. “I mean, I thought I said a lot. Maybe I should have been clearer. You don’t seem to pick up signals super well.” It wasn’t a dig, just an offhand observation that felt like a dig. Was he really that dense?

“To be fair, I don’t think anyone could see that coming,” Coulson said, and Daisy’s brow furrowed.

“What do you mean?”

“You? Being in love with _me?_ ” Despite the quiet question of ‘ _what if…?_ ’ that had been slowly rising in him, Phil found himself doubting again. Daisy was a literal superhero, beautiful, half his age, and probably going to be the best SHIELD director in history down the line. While he was technically on his second life, on his way out the door soon. How many years did he have left in the field?

“Hey, what’s wrong with being in love with you?”

Coulson looked at Daisy, who seemed positively offended on his behalf. He gave her a self-deprecating, kind of pathetic smile. “You know, this might be the only time I’ve ever questioned your judgement. _Ow_!” He looked at his arm incredulously. “Did you just pinch me?”

“I’m so mad at you right now,” she said, shaking her head. But her hand returned to her side.

“You _pinched me_.” Was she serious? Not about the pinching, but did she actually have feelings for him? The thought was almost too absurd to consider.

But she had some excellent points. Phil thought back to that first ride in Lola. He was sure the thought had crossed his mind, even if he never intended to pursue it.

He _loved_  Daisy, was it so outside of the realm of possibilities? Especially knowing she felt the way she did.

“You’re thinking about it.” An uncharacteristically smug look occupied Daisy’s face. “Aren’t you?”

Not sure what else to say, Coulson just nodded. “And?” She gave him a thumbs up, then slowly flipped it into a thumbs down, then back again. He tentatively gave a thumbs up.

Her whole face lit up.

“Really?”

It was a bit embarrassing for him, seeing Daisy look _this happy_ about him even just considering that the two of them could be...was she _serious?_ He didn’t want to ask and risk another pinch, because unless this too was a side effect there was no way someone like her should be this thrilled because of him.

“I think you can do better,” he admitted, holding up and hand before she could argue, “but I’m...open to the possibility.” He already knew he wanted Daisy in his life forever, so this was just another version of that, right? Slightly different than he had assumed, but that was not necessarily a bad thing.

“Can I kiss you?”

Judging by the way his heart leapt into his throat, Coulson suspected it definitely wasn’t a bad thing.

“Not right now,” he said, hoping she didn’t take it as a rejection.

“Because of the pain medication?”

“Yup.”

Daisy nodded, but sighed. Phil could almost laugh if it wasn’t _so insane that this was happening right now._

“If you still want to when you’re sober though--”

“Oh, I’ll want to.”

Once again, he had to wonder: was she _always_ this intense? Had he just not noticed before? _How_ had he not noticed before, good god.

“Right,” he said, clearing his throat. “Well then, let’s table that for now.” Daisy nodded, smiling at him in a way that he was sure he had seen before, before he _knew,_  when a quiet knock caught their attention.

“It’s uh, my shift,” Fitz said, hands in his pockets. He looked at the two of them oddly. “Did I miss something?”

“Nope.”

“No.”

“...Okay. Weird.”

* * *

Rolling out of bed, Phil rubbed at his eyes until everything wasn’t blurry anymore. “Just a second,” he called, hoping that whoever had been knocking didn’t have anything urgent. Shuffling over to the door he opened it, and was met with the sight of a very clear eyed, determined looking Daisy.

“Good morning,” she said, before launching herself at him and kissing him. Phil stumbled back slightly but luckily kept his balance. It was, to be a total cliche, electric, though that might have been because of the high energy Daisy seemed to be putting into it while he was still half asleep. Trying to keep up, too tired to be scandalized by the way she had already managed to get his mouth to open under hers, he wrapped his arms around her, careful not to put any pressure on spots he knew were still probably healing. It wasn’t until then that Coulson realized he still hadn’t put his prosthetic on. He froze, and Daisy pulled away.

“Sorry,” she said, her cheeks and lips both a dark shade of pink. “I probably should have come when you were less...groggy but I couldn’t--You’re awake, right?”

He nodded. Well, if the lack of a hand didn’t bother her…

Coulson leaned in, _slow_ this time, and kissed her softly. Daisy’s hand slid up his back, and she somehow managed to get even closer, until he couldn’t feel an ounce of space between them.

Vaguely, Phil wondered if maybe they were still visible to anyone in the hallway, but that seemed to fade into the background. This was _Daisy_ , he reminded himself, but somehow the world was still intact around them. Stepping back again, Daisy looked at him nervously. “So?” Once again she held a thumbs up, and was about to shift it downward when he grabbed her hand, keeping it upright.

Daisy’s face lit up, sunny and beautiful and _happy,_  and this time Phil felt like maybe he’d earned it. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”


End file.
